Papercuts

Chapter One: Crazy

I stare into his eyes.

They are an exotic blend of amber and tranquil thoughts, laced with unspent anger and hurt from a past which should have not been his own.

His lips move and I nearly miss what he said; "You here again?"

I give a rye smile and divert my own eyes. "I've lost count."

Smiling softly to the point of being a sarcastic smirk, he nods and sits next to me on the uncomfortable couch. It is a grey color that's been worn thin. Patterns of flowers that are now mere indents in the fabric poke through in areas. I trace the patterns with my finger.

We sit there in silence, listening to the sounds of crying people and yelling nurses. In the background someone is begging to go to the vending machine. She is probably one of those overweight people who was sent here by over-involved parents.

"Why you in here again?" He asks me. His voice is thick, rich even. It's a tenor's voice. Soothing. One of those voices that read books on cassette tapes so people can read them in their cars well on a long drive.

My finger stops tracing the patters.

I look over to him. His eyes are upon mine.

"You tell me." I say.

He gives a smile that's a little more gentle. I look forward and yet again we fall into a silence. There are windows around this room, each with bars on them. They are so dirty that light barely shine's through. The walls are a pasty white. I watch a girl dance beneath a window. She is twirling, twirling. She is wearing a white gown with the back open. She is very thin.

Little bootie shoes with pink hearts on them adorn her feet. They are spinning round and round. I suddenly feel warmth on my hand. Looking down I see his palm is spread upon mine.

He caresses my fingers rubbing each with the pad of his thumb.

Then, he takes my long shirt sleeve and lifts it up, only a little, but enough to see them. These horrid things. I retract my hand quickly from his and hold it to my chest. I glare at him, but it is not a mean glare. He is still smiling softly. I watch the fuzzy white ears on his head shift slightly.

I say nothing and turn my head back to the girl who was dancing. She isn't anymore. I see three nurses sprawling over her, stabbing a needle into her barren arm. She is screaming. It's a loud sound, but to me I can barely hear it. He is now watching too.

A lady walks towards us. She is wearing the normal nurse's wardrobe. White medium length skirt with a white blouse. Her hair is in a ponytail and she is really pretty. A cross necklace adorns her neck.

"Inuyasha," She says her voice soft, "Dr. Kamitoshi will see you now."

He nods and stands up. Walking over to the nurse, he looks back at me, "They will never take your freedom away." He whispers, and it seems his words are only meant for me, "Never forget that."

I nod, but am sure that I look confused. What could he mean by that?

I watch as the nurse grabs his arm and direct him down the hall and through two doors. The doors have small windows in them, but they are tinted. Onlookers can peer in, but we may never look out. Above the door a small sign to far up for reach reads, "Tsukiru Ward."

I wonder silently why that boy, Inuyasha, is here.

Than I am recalled to why I, myself am here. I do not belong here, not at all. I'm a normal Japanese girl! Looking down at my filthy arms, I recall the way I gave myself these papercuts.

Now, because of the, I am here where I do not belong.

"Miss Higurashi," another nurse says, this one is rather short but has friendly eyes, "The Director of this institution will see you now." I feel my body stand up, but my soul isn't. I am really still sitting on that old, grey couch, tracing patterns with my finger.

As we walk, the woman shows me things that I already know of. I remember them from my last 'visit' as mother calls them. The bedrooms, the bathroom, (Complete with security cameras in each) and finally, the Naughty room. I shiver as we pass that.

The nurse pulls out an ID badge card and swipes it through the scanner. The light beeps twice then she pushes open the door.

As we walk down the stairs, one by one, I find my hands tracing the texture on the walls.

"...and Miss Higurashi," She says, gaining my attention, "Welcome to the Tsubasa facility."

I am a normal girl, really.

They say I'm crazy, but I'm not. I just see more of truth than they do. I know they will ask me the same questions as always... Why? Why? Why?

But they would never understand why I do this. Nobody could ever understand it. How can I explain in words the feeling it gives me, when all's they tell me is that I don't know what I'm talking about?

My name is Kagome Higurashi and I'm not crazy.